Web of Underlying Truths
by joyeuxJoel
Summary: Only Exposition right now--juggling several ideas for a plot but please R/R


Author: joyeuxJoel  
Email: sweetangel5174@hotmail.com  
Category: action/adventure/romance/drama  
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc.

**Chapter One: On Leaving Comfort and Entering Ice**

  


***

  
  
  


Her trunk was almost packed, her closet almost bare, it was almost time to leave. How she had feared this and now it was here, the day she left everything she knew in Ireland to a place where people were different--their language, their customs, and most importantly, their faces. Lynx Byrne had grown accustomed to observing faces, noting every detail, every curve and every freckle. She was especially good at noting freckles.

It was true, though, that Britain was not far from Ireland, however in all of Lynx's short yet smotheringly protected existance of 16 years, she was denied the experience of ever visiting there, thus a fear of this foreign place was born. Her whole life was born of fear, she lived in fear every day, but yet it was comfortable. Going to a place where perhaps there wasn't so much fear was frightening and made her stomach turn. But now there was no one to keep her from Britain, and her aunt (and now legal guardian), Minerva McGonagall, lived and taught in Britain, at Hogwarts School, so now she must go. She could no longer afford the tuition at her former private school, the Boyle Institution of Magic.

She threw her bag of neatly packed toiletries in her trunk, just as the social worker walked in. With a tight bun of black hair and neatly tailored earl gray suit, she bore a striking resemblance to Minerva McGonagall.

"It's time to go, Lynx," the woman said curtly, "the train leaves in forty-five minutes."

Lynx didn't look at her. _Stupid woman,_ she thought bitterly, _just because I'm an orphan doesn't mean I can't take care of myself_. She bit back these words. "Yes, Jackie... I know. I'm finished," she said, her throat tight.

"Good, I'll be waiting outside then," said Jackie. Exit Jackie.

Lynx sighed quietly. She looked around her room one last time, this room that had been her sanctuary for the past 16 years, that had safely guarded her dreams and her grievances, whose walls had held their peace when she laughed and screamed and cried.

She remembered the endless parade of balls and parties thrown in this mansion before her parents were murdered. She remembered the indignation she felt that these faces that were never truthful thought they were fooling her. She could always see the black hatred behind their facades of poise and sophistication in the guests' eyes and in her parents' eyes. They thought she couldn't see, but she could--she could always see. She knew what they were. She knew what all of them were. Lynx just wondered why her parents tried to keep it from her. Didn't most Death Eaters divulge to their children, hoping that they would eventually follow in their footsteps?

Her mind wandered to one of the regular guests--Lucius Malfoy. His son, Draco, he knew, and he forced Lynx to face what her parents were and what they did. The two were often shooed away from the parties together when the guests became restless to take off their masks of civility.

Oh, how he frightened her, Draco Malfoy. He was beautiful, almost too beautiful to lay gaze upon. He was always just enough and never too much. He was cruel to her but she couldn't help memorizing his chiseled features--his cold gray eyes beyond which burned a ceaseless fire of ice, his textureless silver hair that made her want to twirl it all around her fingers, his lips of exactly the right shade of pink, his elegant beautifully boned hands... Yes, everything about Draco Malfoy was just enough. She knew that his cruelty should generate a hatred in her for him, yet she couldn't quite bring herself to despise him. She remembered an occasion on which they had been locked together at one of her parents' "dinner parties".

_They were in the top room of the west tower. He was standing, staring out over the balcony and she was sitting, leaned again the cold stone wall._

"Why must you hate the world, Draco? What has the world done to you?" she had asked.

"Why do you ask about things that have nothing to do with you?" had been his reply.

"Because I'm the only one who would ever dare to ask," she said.

He had pondered his response for a moment. Lynx knew what was coming. She had wondered why she even bothered. "I hate the world for making such abhorable colors, like magenta and orange, and then putting them together, like on your mothers horrendous dinner gown," he said naturally.

She had sighed. "I was just trying to help," she said softly.

"You could help me, though," he said deviously. "You can come over here and we can make our own soft porn. You really are beautiful, Lynx. You and I would be good together."

She sighed at this fragment of a memory, then she turned and without looking back, walked out of her bedroom forever, locking the door behind her.

  


***

  


On the train, Lynx watched the rolling green hills pass as they drew nearer to the London station. She noticed the increasingly dark sky and tood a mental picture of their shade of angry purple--clouds in Ireland certainly never looked that foreboding. Throughout the duration of the ride she constantly fingered the emerald and diamond charm on her necklace that her father gave her on her 16th birthday, right before he died alongside her mother. It was shaped like a tiny iceskate, with the diamonds comprising the boot, and the emeralds making up the blade. Despite his father's Death Eater status, he still tried to pretend to be a good father.

An hour or so later, as they were coming within ten miles of the station, the train gave an almighty lurch and came to a complete halt. The lights flickered and went out, leaving Lynx to the darkness and the roaring storm outside. (It had, indeed, became a gale such as Lynx had never seen before, even in her 16 years of Ireland's wet and rainy temperance.) She heard a woman scream in the compartment before hers, then silence, and a moment later the door slammed open and a single ball of intense white light shot into the compartment. It circled around her head for a few seconds, then to Lynx's amazement, was absorbed into one of the tiny diamonds in her necklace's charm. She felt a sudden surge of electricity run through her, and the woman's scream filled her ears.

But in an instant it was over. The lights came back and the train began moving again. The witch who pushed the cart of refreshments, for of course there was one on every wizarding train, came into Lynx's compartment a minute later.

"Why do you look so pale, lass? Do you need something to drink?" the witch inquired, offering her a bottle of iced butterbear.

"Why did the train just stop?" Lynx asked, turning down the drink. "Is something wrong?"

The old witch considered Lynx for a minute. "The train hasn't stopped since we left Dublin, dear," she finally said. "In fact, this is one of the smoothest rides we've had all summer." With that, she left quickly, leaving Lynx feeling alone and rather confused.

  


***

  


Minerva McGonagall was waiting for Lynx when she stepped off the train. Her serious expression changed Lynx's mind about mentioning the incident on the train. _She wouldn't believe me anyway,_ Lynx thought.

"Hurry up, child!" McGonagall barked as Lynx struggled with her cumbersome trunk. "Oh, for goodness' sake..." She cast a lightening charm on the trunk and they made quick progress through the station.

When they reached the parking lot outside the station, Lynx quickly noted the main differences between Dublin and London. The structures, the voices, and, of course, the faces.

  


***

  


A week passed for Lynx in London. They had ended up staying at the Leaky Cauldron, through which members of the wizarding community of all classes and statuses continually passed to reach Diagon Alley. She had run into Draco numerous times, and each time he withheld that condescending charm that, strangely enough, made Lynx weak.

_Setting: outside of Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream. Lynx: sitting at a table outside, enjoying her banana split, pondering whether or not to use some of her inheritance from her parents' death to buy an owl._

Enter Draco.

He sits. "Lynx. I didn't expect to find you here."

"My parents just died."

"I'm aware of that, my_ father isn't dead if you'll recall. That doesn't explain why you're here."_

"I have_ to be here. I'm staying with my aunt Minerva McGonagall."_

"McGonagall_? Bloody hell, Lynx, that banshee is your _aunt_?"_

Lynx, becoming annoyed with his childishness, "Yes, she's my mother's sister."

Draco, with a look of disgust, "So I'm supposing you'll be going to Hogwarts this term then."

"That would be right, yeah."

"You'll be in Gryffindor, I can tell."

She hid her ignorance of the meaning of "Gryffindor", and kept the exchange going as if she wasn't. "You know for sure?"

"No, but I can tell."

"Can't you always?"

"Yes."

Later that day, she asked her aunt what "Gryffindor" was.

"It's a house. When you start at Hogwarts you'll be sorted into one of them." she replied.

"Oh..." Lynx said slowly. There weren't houses at Boyle. "How many are there?"

"Four. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"How are you sorted into one?"

"You try on a hat," McGonagall said simply. Then, seeing Lynx's espression of confusion, "Each house carries certain character traits. The hat identifies these and chooses which house you'd be most suited to."

"Oh..." Lynx said again. "Which one will I probably go into?"

McGonagall looked annoyed. "I don't _know_, Lynx! I don't know you that well."

Still, she persisted. "What house was my mother in?"

Her aunt was silent for a moment. "Gryffindor... we were both in Gryffindor. Not that it made much of a difference..." Her voice trailed off.

Lynx didn't pursue that statement. She knew exactly what her aunt was talking about.

  


***

  


On the morning of August twentieth, Minerva McGonagall sharply interrupted Lynx's dreams.

"Wake up, Lynx!" she hissed. "Wake up, we need to be on the Hogwarts Express in thirty minutes."

She drowsily rolled out of bed. "Isstooearlybeupfiemoreminuss..."

"No, no! Get up!" Minerva threw her her robes. "Get ready, come on now!"

When Lynx was dressed and groomed, she headed downstairs, her trunk floating behind her. (Minerva had taught her an elevating charm.) Her aunt was waiting impatiently by the door when she got there. "Sorry, Minerva, I was--" she began, but the older woman cut her off.

"Gracious, Lynx, we don't have time for you to fish for excuses. We're running late as it is. The car the Ministry sent for us has been waiting for over an hour."

"Sorry," Lynx muttered as they made their way to the yellow Ministry car parked outside.

The car ride to the station was a quiet one, as was the train ride to the school. Two people who never really knew each other but were now being forced to live together don't often have a lot to say. Although when they got to the platform, Lynx had some trouble getting through the barrier without panicking first. She eventually got it, though, and the exchange of words that followed was the last they spoke before they got to the school.

  


***

  


When the train stopped, Lynx was instantly afraid of a repeat of the train to London. She paled and stopped breathing. It was a moment before she realized there was no darkness and no screaming and she was okay and her aunt was looking at her like she was considering sending her to St. Mungo's. She quickly collected herself.

"Well, Lynx... we're here," said her aunt quietly, as though she was afraid of startling her.

"Right..." said Lynx distractedly.

And with that, they left the train.

Lynx's first impression of the Hogwarts grounds was impressive. The castle was huge and sprawled over the perfectly tended lawns. She could see several large greenhouses in the east, flanked by a collection of beautiful gardens. Lynx recognized several Muggle shrubs along with a variety of feistier wizard flowers comprising these gardens. Her gaze floated over a small grove of willow and sycamore trees on the banks of a large lake. Farther west she could see a dark and foreboding forest, on the edge of which sat a tiny wooden cabin. She continued to observe as she and her aunt climbed into a small purple horseless carriage. She was impressed by the size of the Quidditch field and startled by the Whomping Willow.

When they got inside the castle, Lynx was instantly overwhelmed by the strong scent of cleaning spells. There were dozens of house-elves running around, polishing the banisters and the suits of armor, waxing the black and cafe marble floors, and rotating the candles in the front hall chandelier. She was impressed immensly.

She was waken out of her awestruck state by the soft but powerful voice of an old man. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Lynx Byrne," he said warmly. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster at this school."

Lynx was at a loss for words. With the power the man radiated, she almost felt she should bow to him. 


End file.
